


Death’s Imminent Door

by TheSleepyOne



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Comfort/Angst, Eventual Fluff, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Language, M/M, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Suggestive Themes, Suggestive language, Tumblr Prompt, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleepyOne/pseuds/TheSleepyOne
Summary: You’re injured in a fight defending Eskel’s honor.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Reader, Eskel (The Witcher)/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	Death’s Imminent Door

**Author's Note:**

> I need more Eskel fics. That’s all. Also, writing prompt from @whumpster-dumpster “Kiss with bruised lips”. There was also, “Dying breath kiss,” and, “Kiss with trembling lips,” but I thought we’ll go for something more light hearted today. I thought, but let this be a warning that I’m not good at fluff. Unbeta’d as always.

To be fair you shouldn’t have even been there. Eskel had long retired for the night and was peacefully sleeping in the room upstairs. You on the other hand wanted another drink. That was a mistake. 

Everything was fine for the most part. You enjoyed a tankard, a drop of ale sliding down the corner of your mouth. There was a bard, not Geralt’s, singing in the tavern. Some song about sleeping with a goat or some sort of lucid dream the man had. You weren’t sure and at the time you didn’t really care. 

“Just like that witcher!” 

You sobered instantly at the mention of your partner in hand and trail. “What did you just say?!” you slurred, slamming your almost empty tankard down. A tremble shot up your arm but you shook it off, standing as tall as your drunk self could allow. “Say that to my face, bastard!”

“Oh it’s the witcher’s bed warmer.” 

“With a dick as big as his, gladly!” You took large strides to the equally drunk man who had dared to taint Eskel’s honor. To your surprise he was the same height and of a smaller build. All talk and no bite. This fight will be easy...unfortunately for you, it was not.

“Oh, so you admit you spread your legs for that goat fucker!” the man yelled, spit flying out of his mouth. He stank of ale and week old hay, likely a local stable man. 

“At least he’s not the one letting the horses outside fuck his ass open,” you shot back, an audience growing. The bard was strumming a tone played at debates and tense scenes in plays. He would have gotten on your nerves if you weren’t focused at the scum of the continent in front of you. 

“What did you just call me?” 

“Sorry, do you still have horse cu-” 

Before you knew it a fist came in harsh contact with the side of your face. Too drunk to stay afoot you fall back onto the table behind you. A couple enjoying their date lept in surprise at your semi conscious figure on their dinner. 

“Too busy getting fucked to learn how to fight?” 

“No,” you stumbled out, standing on wobbling feet. “Just too busy riding your h-” Another punch came your way but this time you blocked it, twisting his arms and slamming his body on the floor. He groaned and choked out a sob, grabbing onto your unsteady leg. Pulling it forward he brought you down onto the floor with him. 

Out of the corner of your eye as you fell, a barmaid scurries upstairs to where Eskel rests. “Already cheating on that witcher with the pretty barmaid?” the man brought your attention back to himself. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you roll yourself on top of him, straddling his torso and sending fist after fist to his face. Your knuckles were bleeding and he was screaming, bloodied face such a beautiful sight. It was a joy before someone roughly pulled you off of him. 

“Get off of him, you bastard!” a different barmaid shouted, tugging at your arms and for some reason your clothes. 

“Hold the fucker down,” the man on the floor ordered, slowly pulling himself together with whimpers. Blood was trickling down his neck and his clean shirt was red with it all. You couldn’t help but smirk at your handiwork.

“What are you smirking at?” 

“I saw a big stallion in the stable earlier. You were brushing his coat awfully well. One could only think why-” 

With the new barmaid holding you down and the man on his feet you really should’ve shut up but you couldn’t help it. His fists were smaller than yours but packed the same amount of force. While you enjoyed watching as blood coated his face, smiling even. He was getting angrier and angrier. Each punch was worse than the one before and that was prior to when he brought his booted foot into the mix. 

Your groans began to fill the tavern but were mostly drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. The bard began a quicker tune, leaping up onto a table to dance. He twirled and sang like you weren’t being beaten to a pulp. The couple whose date you ruined joined the man in the fun, trading hits and cheers.

The ale in your system helped with most of the pain but you could feel your body going slack. Unconsciousness was edging it’s way into your mind. Sleep seemed like a blissful option in comparison to the beating, but waking up wasn’t guaranteed. 

Oh wouldn’t that be a sight, Eskel waking up to take a new contract the next town over only to see your unmoving husk of a form on the floor. Dried blood coating your barely recognizable face, your clothes torn and ripped from your still body. You weren’t sure what the barmaid wanted with your clothes but she would probably take them off if given the chance. 

He would be angry, livid really. Sobbing in the dead of night where no one could judge him. The two of you weren’t the type to constantly tell each other you loved them throughout the day. You showed that with actions. Helping him sharpen his swords, setting up camp, defending his honor in a bar fight. 

Unable to bear to see his grief stricken face, you hesitantly opened your eyes. They were swollen, that was obvious even without a mirror. And the rest of you wasn’t fairing all that well either, but you were alive. That was something to be proud of. 

“Oh look, the bed warmer is awake,” the man taunted, taking your tankard and pouring what remained over your head. The ale against your open wounds stung and you gasped, biting your tongue to suppress a scream. 

“What are you stopping for? I want to mark up this pretty skin,” the barmaid snarled behind you with a grin. The tavern suddenly grew quiet. Even the bard stopped playing, stepping down from the table, his eyes never left what was behind you. 

Your movement was limited but you managed to look over your shoulder. Eskel in all of his shirtless, disheveled glory was at the foot of the stairs, a glare and the remanence of potions evident on his face. His eyes were a dulling dark gray, the black veins faded but still present. Gods and whoever was listening you wanted him to stare you down as he took you against the wall. Unrelenting in his haste to finish and rough with need. 

“Lovely evening isn’t it, love,” you greeted nonchalantly, unable to feel your legs.

“Care to tell me what happened?” Eskel asked in fake calmness. You have been with him long enough to know when he was seconds from stabbing the nearest person in the heart. 

“Oh nothing much, love. Just some imbecile, horse fucker, baby killing, grime under my foot, bastard decided it was wise to call you some ill choice words in my presence,” you explained, your eyes drooping in an attempt to stay awake. You were alive, you told yourself. Eskel will be fine. You will be fine. Just a night’s rest and you will be as good as new the next morning. 

“Would you like to tell me who?” his dark gaze swept across the room. Everyone was frozen in their place, smart enough to know when they were at death’s imminent door. 

“Just her, him, and those two,” you gestured with your eyes but was unsure how much Eskel was able to catch. He could always smell the blood from their bleeding knuckles, so really you had no need to keep your eyes open. “That annoying bard had something to do with it but I can’t remember.” 

You didn’t have the energy to keep your head on your neck and just let it fall. The barmaid dropped you immediately, but Eskel was quick enough to catch you. He grabbed onto you, his grip a little too tight in sensitive areas but he lightened his hands when he noticed the spike in your heart beat. A growl was building deep within his chest from the sight of your injured form. 

“I recommend you run while you can,” Eskel spoke to the people in the tavern, already having memorized the faces and scents of the people you pointed out. He’ll give them mercy, a night before he ripped their spines from their backs and their egos from their groins. 

“Can you stay awake for me, darling?” Eksel whispered to you, his arms underneath your legs and chest. 

“Only If you’ll have me against the wall,” you mumbled, barely able to sense what was happening. Before you knew it you were in the inn room, a still warm bed underneath your aching body. 

“Just open your eyes for me, darling,” Eskel forced out a timid chuckle. An ache grew from your chest, and not due to the beating. Your poor witcher was afraid you wouldn’t wake up when the sun came up. He had nothing to worry about. You could still feel the upper half of your body. That was something. 

“Can’t get enough of my beautiful orbs?” you joked, your voice much weaker than you realized. Some job you did reassuring him, he sounded like he was about to cry. 

“Never enough.” He planted a soft kiss onto your bruised lips. So caring in your injury, he made sure to not apply too much pressure onto the wounds. 

Before you woke the next day, because you did, although a bit late into the noon, Eskel had gone out to hunt. Not for food, oh no. For sport. 

Five bodies laid in the stables for the stable boy to see; the stable man, a couple, a barmaid and a bard with the neck of his gittern through his own neck.


End file.
